Torn: A terrified girl. A shocking secret. A terrible choice.. Rosie Lewis

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СКАЧАТЬ the warmest way to welcome someone into our home and so usually I introduced them gradually, reserving the first day for showing them where everything was and finding out what foods they liked. In Taylor’s case, I got the feeling it was a case of the sooner the better; she needed to know what was expected of her.

      Every household has its own set of basic rules and some children, if they’ve been moved around in the care system, genuinely find it difficult to keep track of what they can and can’t do. It was a simple list –

      No hitting

      No swearing

      No shouting

      No going into other people’s bedrooms

      Everyone makes their own bed each morning

      – and one intended to let everyone know where they stood; that was the theory at least.

      ‘Well, I ain’t making my own bed for a start,’ Taylor mumbled after disdainfully chucking her copy on the floor.

      ‘I want all of us to feel safe in this house,’ I said after a moment, ignoring Taylor’s heckling and directing my words at everyone. ‘And to feel safe we must follow the rules. That means everyone, including me. Do you all understand?’

      Emily, Jamie and Reece nodded in unison. Taylor swung her foot and wittered on under her breath.

      ‘Taylor? You OK with that?’

      ‘Meh,’ she said, shrugging. ‘What y’gonna do?’

      I stared at her, my hackles rising. It was nearing 6 o’clock and the prospect of moving several heavy pieces of furniture around was pressing on my thoughts. With a lethal combination of tiredness and hunger beginning to set in as well, I thought it would be wisest to ignore her.

      Dinner was thrown together in a hurry – pasta with cheese sauce and garlic bread – one of the few meals that had featured on both Taylor and Reece’s lists of favourite foods. Emily and Jamie, who had already eaten with their dad, sat with us at the table while we ate, sipping at mugs of warm milk. It was nice that they wanted to be part of things and I was pleased to see that Taylor and Reece were tucking into their food. Some children lose their appetite after the trauma of separation from their parents but the siblings were scoffing their dinner hungrily, licking stray flakes of parsley from their fingers after each bite of garlic bread. ‘Can I have some more, Rosie?’ Reece asked thickly, before he’d swallowed his last mouthful. Almost upsetting his beaker of water as he cluttered his knife and fork to the table, he still seemed ill at ease, but it was reassuring to know that at least he had some warm food inside him.

      ‘Yes, of course you can.’ A bowl of leftovers sat on a hessian mat in the middle of the table, a long silver serving spoon resting on the rim. ‘Help yourself, love,’ I said, lowering my own fork and edging the bowl towards him with my fingertips. He raised his eyebrows, surprised it seemed, to be given such a responsibility. I started eating again, nodding encouragingly as he loaded the spoon with pasta and plopped a large dollop onto his plate. He looked up at me and beamed.

      ‘Taylor, would you like some more?’ I asked, breaking off a piece of garlic bread for myself. She had taken umbrage at not being allowed a fizzy drink with her meal, something her mum always gave her. The resultant scowl was still in place.

      Rolling her lips in on themselves, as if she’d just applied a layer of lipstick, she hitched one shoulder up to her ear. ‘Meh, tastes like crap if I’m honest.’

      Emily’s mug froze an inch from her mouth, her eyes darting to meet mine.

      ‘I’d rather you just said you didn’t like it, Taylor,’ I told her, my voice off-key. Sudden tiredness had drained my desire to remind her of the house rules or embark on a lecture.

      She looked at me and shrugged. ‘Actually, Reece, stick some more on there then,’ she said to her brother, holding her knife and fork to one side to accommodate. ‘May as well ’ave some while you’re at it.’

      Hastily swallowing my mouthful, I said, ‘No, Taylor, no more, not if you don’t like it. If you’re still hungry after you’ve finished what’s on your plate you can have a piece of fruit instead.’

      Livid, she coloured at once, her cheeks flame red. Her eyes flitted around the room as if trying to conjure a retort but it seemed she couldn’t think of one. She stabbed a piece of pasta with her fork instead, snapping at it with fury as she thrust it into her mouth. For the next few minutes I listened in silence as Emily and Jamie told me about their day, aware that Reece hadn’t taken his eyes off me since I’d spoken to his sister. With his head angled slightly to the side, it was as if he was analysing me, trying to gauge my mood. I wasn’t sure why – my tone with Taylor had been firm but not fierce. Every so often I threw a smile his way, trying to reassure him that all was well. He reciprocated with an instinctive smile but each time my gaze wandered he grew serious again, the inspection continuing.

      When Emily and Jamie mentioned their meal I was tempted to ask them what they thought of Debbie – it was the first time they’d been introduced to her – but I quickly decided it wasn’t fair to quiz them, and certainly not in front of Taylor and Reece. I gave myself an imaginary pat on the back for my maturity and my earlier composure. Sometimes I didn’t feel all that mature; actually, there were still times when I marvelled that they let me foster at all.

      ‘Who was that man what brought you home?’ Reece asked Jamie, his mouth full of garlic bread.

      ‘My dad,’ Jamie told him. ‘He took us out for pizza.’

      ‘Where’d he go then? Has he gone back to work?’

      Jamie’s gaze dropped to his lap and my stomach lurched. Of the pair of them, Jamie seemed to be the one who missed his father the most. A few weeks earlier, after visiting a friend who lived with his parents in a beautiful house by the river, Jamie had arrived home full of excitement. ‘Mum!’ he’d said in urgent, excited tones. ‘I’ve got a great idea. If you and Dad make up, we can all live together in a house like Max.’ The expression of hope shining bright in his eyes almost broke my heart.

      After an uncomfortable pause I said: ‘Emily and Jamie’s dad lives in a flat not far from here. You’ll meet him soon I expect.’

      ‘Why don’t he live here then?’ Taylor demanded in an interrogative tone, fixing Emily and Jamie with a stony glare.

      I paused, mid-chew. Emily and Jamie, frozen, looked at me in mute appeal. ‘I’d rather not discuss it with you, Taylor,’ I said, lowering my cutlery to the table and wiping my hands on a piece of kitchen towel. It was a struggle to maintain the mild air that I had instinctively adopted since her arrival.

      Silence hung in the air like thick fog, the children glancing uneasily between each other. Taylor, her flush deepening, turned her eyes on me and tilted her head. ‘Is it because you’re a shit cook?’ she asked, delivering the question with a few innocent blinks.

      The rain was still hammering down late into the evening, when all the furniture had been moved and everyone was settled in bed. After locking up I padded through to the dining room, where my mattress sagged against the wall looking every bit as weary as I felt. The base of my bed lay in two halves against the fireplace, duvet and pillows in a heap on the table in the middle of the room.

      With a hyperactive edge that gave me the jitters, Reece had shadowed me while I lifted and carried, СКАЧАТЬ